


Train your daughters to be stronger

by FettsOnTop (GTFF)



Series: Meeting Like This [11]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Feels, Gen, Side Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 13:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11402925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GTFF/pseuds/FettsOnTop
Summary: This is a companion story to Until Then. Ailyn Vel's perspective on her father and his new family.





	Train your daughters to be stronger

Ailyn could remember every detail about that day. It was the unquestionably the worst day of her life. She had just returned to Phindar after finishing a job, flush with credits, and was ready to kick up her boots at her favorite mando tapcafe with Makin when the news of Fenn Shysa’s death reached them.

The atmosphere quickly turned to one of mourning. Fenn Shysa was well-liked. Then the bartender played the transmission from Keldabe, and there he was. A full sized hologram of the man she despised with every fiber of her being.

 _I am Boba Fett. And I claim the title of Mand’alor_.

Her _father_.

The reaction in the tapcafe was roar, some approval, some disapproval, but mostly just shock. A collective gasp. Ailyn leaned over in her seat and spat on the floor. No one saw it but Makin.

“Steady there, _Cyar’ika_ ,” he said, and poured her a tall glass of _tihaar_. He had to carry her home.

As soon as she woke up the next morning she started making plans. Fett was the _Mand’alor_ , and that meant he had to make himself available to any challenger. He couldn’t run away from her. Not this time.

Makin objected to her plans in the strongest possible terms. “He won’t be alone. He’s got more than half the clans from Concord Dawn on his side. Clan Ordo has already announced their support. He’s married to a _kriffing_ senator. You think she’ll just shrug off someone killing her husband?”

“Anyone can challenge,” she snarled back at him. “She’ll have to accept it.”

“Don’t be too sure about that. She’s _auretti_. And her father was a Sith Lord.”

“I don’t care who her father was. I’m not scared of her.”

“What if you succeed, then what? By right, you’ll be the _Mand’alor_. You think the clans will follow someone who killed their predecessor for personal vengeance? You’ll be challenged the next day, and the day after that.”

“So?”

“So that’s it?” He seethed. “This is how you want to die?”

“As long as he dies first.”

“ _Haar’chak_. You’re so stubborn!” He took her by the shoulders and pressed his forehead against hers. “ _Cyar’ika_ , I can’t do this. I can’t watch you destroy yourself.”

He walked out the door and she told herself it didn’t matter. She continued her preparations. The last thing she did was visit her mother, just in case it really was the last time.

Her mother was busy, preparing for a smuggling job with her partner Caren. Ailyn liked Caren. She was tough as durasteel, but warm and teasing at the same time. She didn’t always like the people her mother dated, but she took comfort in the fact that Sintas always said she would never marry again, that once was enough to ruin it for her.

She spent an hour sitting at their table, munching cruskis while they called back and forth to one another about remembering this, and the need to pack that. By the time she left, her bloodlust had cooled and she didn’t feel as reckless.

And she missed Makin.

So instead of going to Mandalore to challenge her father, she went back to work. She told herself that someday she would confront Fett. When she was ready. She sometimes imagined that they might meet as fellow hunters, and he might be impressed with her skill before she kicked his _kriffing_ skull in.

A year passed. Then two. One day Makin showed up at her favorite tapcafe, and it was as if no time had passed at all. They said their vows, took up residence together, and another handful of years passed. Better, happier years. They decided to have a baby.

She had a very healthy appetite while pregnant, which was always considered to be a good thing in Mandalorian culture. They were in the very same tapcafe, and Ailyn had just finished a substantial meal when the alert came through from the clan leaders.

Makin saw it first, and she knew by the wary look he gave her that it had something to do with Boba Fett. Her first thought was that perhaps someone had finally killed him.

But then she saw the alert. A little girl was missing, believed to have been kidnapped. She was five years old. Her name was Shysa Fett. Her parents were Boba Fett and Leia Organa. A holo of her was included with the message.

It came back to her in a rush, just how much she hated her father and the family that he _hadn’t_ abandoned. Ailyn went outside and vomited up every bite of food she had eaten. She also hated wasting food. Food was never a given while she was growing up. That, too, was her father’s fault. He had his ship and his name, and all her mother had was another mouth to feed.

She wanted to enjoy his suffering now, but she didn’t want to think about the innocent little girl, and all of the horrible things that beings did to little girls in this galaxy. She wrapped her arms around her growing belly that night and tried to shut out the image of her half-sister, but she couldn’t.

The next day she kept her commlink at hand, watching updates and the little bits of news from others in the Mandalorian networks. She had two half-brothers, young men who were well-known in the Mandalore system. It took a little digging to find holos. Jonah could have been the twin of her younger self, and Kyd was adopted.

Their mother, Senator Leia Organa, was a former leader in the rebellion, a princess of Alderaan, and if the holonews could be believed, a possible candidate in the election of a new High Chancellor. There were lots of holos of her. Often with her Mandalorian guards, even a few with Fenn Shysa. She was very beautiful.

It took a lot more digging to find one of Fett. She eventually found one where Senator Organa was ID’d in the background, but no one had bothered to attach a name to the impassive man beside her.

She was still a baby when he left, but she was also half-kiffar. The better half, as far as she was concerned. Memories were like a line of music, playing through her mind. She could see his face, softer and more youthful, hovering over her cradle. He used to study her, as if she was a malfunctioning piece of equipment.

Her mother seemed almost surprised when she shared the memory. “I remember that too. He really didn’t know what to do with you. I didn’t either, but I had to learn.”

She wished she could see herself in that memory. A tiny wriggling baby, trying to reach up to her father. She didn’t remember ever being held by him.

Did he hold his other children?

In the late afternoon, word came through that the search had turned toward kidnappers who might be interested in force-sensitive children. Makin returned in the evening from his supply run, full of speculation and gossip from the trading routes. Something about Imperials, and a secret storehouse. The Mandalorian Protectors were gathering on Concord Dawn.

“Wayland,” she said, and Makin abruptly stopped talking.

“ _Osik_.”

“Yeah.”

Wayland was a bad job. Every hunter had them, but Wayland was the job that almost killed her.

Makin stared at her. Drummed his fingers on the table.

There was a time when she might have been able to let it go. Children got hurt, children died. That was the way of the galaxy. She didn’t have to mourn for a half-sister she never met. She didn’t have to feel sorry for the man whose only contribution to her life was shooting off inside of her mother.

But this was the galaxy she was bringing her daughter into. There was an old Mandalorian proverb that Makin was found of quoting. _Ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya._

Train your sons to be strong and your daughters to be stronger.

So she went to Keldooine, cursing herself the entire way. She stood face-to-face with her father in an abandoned cafe and instead of emptying every charge in her blaster under the rim of his helmet, she told him what happened on Wayland. She wasn’t even sure he knew who she was until the end, when he said her name.

_Thank you, Ailyn._

Just like that. Simple and direct.

“How was it?” Makin asked, much later, when she climbed into their bed.

She couldn’t answer.

The next morning she disconnected her commlink from the Mandalorian feeds and told Makin to keep her posted on anything useful. Useful as in related to her job. Nothing else.

“They found her,” he said a few days later. She didn’t respond.  

Shortly after that, Mirta was born. Her beautiful, strong daughter. Her days and nights slipped away, and in the flurry of feedings and diapers, Makin’s cousin “acquired” a transport load of old Mandalorian armor and invited them to come to Mandalore to help him sell it.

They were on their way back to the spaceport in Keldabe when they were stopped by a squadron of Mandalorian Protectors. “You’ll have to swing wide of the bonfires,” they said. “The chancellor is here.”

The chancellor. Leia Organa.

If she was at the bonfires, then Fett would be too. And as they drove on, all of the things she could have said to him on Keldooine built up in her head like water threatening to burst a dam. Things like “you bastard,” and “fuck you,” and “your granddaughter will never even know your name, you coward.”

“I’m hungry,” she told Makin. “Let’s stop at that cantina.” He gave her that wary look, but he did as she asked. By the time they were finished eating, Mirta was fussing to be fed. “I’ll take her outside,” she told her husband. “It’s quieter.”

He let her go without protest. He knew she wouldn’t do anything stupid while she had Mirta with her, and he was right. She wasn’t going to do anything stupid. She wasn’t going to lay a hand on her father. She just wanted to look him in the eye when she told him to burn to hell.

But first she sat on a bench outside and nursed her baby until Mirta was drowsy and content. As she lifted her back into her sling, she saw a small, shadowy figure moving among the speeders that were parked nearby. A child? There was something strangely practiced about the way the small figure moved. Children usually weren’t so good at sneaking around.

The door to the cantina opened as two men went inside, and the light caught the outline of wild, curly hair ducking behind a speeder. A swift, stealthy little girl. Ailyn rose from the bench, but stayed in the shadow of the building as she moved closer.

The girl was lingering at one of the vehicles, standing on her toes to peer into it. She was dressed up for a party in a shiny white shift and purple leggings that matched her purple boots. White and purple flowers had been woven through her hair, but they hadn’t stayed in place. Ailyn could remember her mother trying to dress her hair with flowers and ornaments, with similar results. “Your _hair_ ,” she would sigh. Sintas had finer, straighter hair that pinned easily.

The girl turned. Fear registered briefly in her eyes before she masked it by raising her chin and staring defiantly at Ailyn.

“You’re Shysa Fett, aren’t you?” She tried to sound friendly, but Shysa took a step back. After everything she’d been through, Ailyn couldn’t blame her for being wary of strangers. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said quickly. I’ll go. I’m...glad you made it home.”

“Can I see your baby?”

Ailyn thought of Makin waiting for her, and the plan, and what might happen if one of the perimeter guards saw her talking to the chancellor's daughter. But the Force only knew if she would ever see her half-sister again.

She took Mirta out of her sling and bent down, cradling the baby in her outstretched arms. Shysa came closer for a look. “Her name is Mirta.”

“She’s very small.”

“She’s new to the world. Just like you were once. Just like I was.” She could see the smoke from the bonfires just over the hill, and now and then a trickle of bright sparks drawing up into the sky. She looked down at Shysa again.

 _Did he hold you_?

Her half-sister looked up, and caught her stare. Ailyn tried to cover for it. “Looks like quite a party.”

“You could come. If you want to.”

Shysa’s invitation would carry her past the guards, right up to the man himself. _Osik_ , if she wanted to kill him there would be no better chance. She imagined herself walking up to him, slipping the knife out of her left bracer and slashing his throat. She would be immediately killed, but her name would live on as a legend. The assassin who killed the _Mand’alor_ in front of the High Chancellor of the Republic. And their...children.

Mirta squirmed and whined. She was tired. Ailyn slipped her back into her sling. “No...I’d better not,” she told Shysa. “You should go back to your family.” She caught sight of Makin, standing by the cantina door. Waiting for her. Probably relieved that she was still there. “Stay alive, _Vod’ika_ ,” she told Shysa.

Her little sister tilted her head to one side. “Stay alive.”

Every step back to Makin felt like a hundred. She was doing this. She was walking away.

“Ready to go?” Her husband asked.

“Yes,” She replied, falling into step with him. “I’m ready.”

  


End file.
